Sensory Overload

I know that you know this but I'm going to risk redundancy and say it anyway.  Fall is my favorite season.  It is a time of year that ignites the senses with an overload of sights, sounds and smells.  It is a season that everyone should have the pleasure of experiencing in all of it's magical splendor at least once.



There is no substitute for the real thing; for the sight of red and gold and orange blended to perfection on God's magic pallet then brushed with bold strokes across the countryside; for flames dancing effortlessly in an open fire that crackles and pops providing warmth from dropping temperatures (at least on the front side); for the smell of homemade soup simmering on the stove or apple pie freshly baked from fruit picked yesterday in a brimming orchard; for cheering on your favorite team huddled under a blanket with family and friends on cold, metal bleachers; for the smell of burning wood and decaying leaves;



for the sight of one lone leaf, lazily making it's way to the ground, drifting along on a wayward breeze or the sound of rain beating out its rhythm on the roof; for cold puffs of air exhaled on early morning walks or the warmth of the sun as it moves ever lower in the sky.



For the past 15 years I have missed all of this and more.  Missed leaves swirling and gathering in porch corners; pumpkins lined up like soldiers in front yard road stands; and orange and gold marigolds blooming in cheerful bursts of color at every turn.



This year I have enjoyed it all.  Each and every one of these things has been experienced and savored.



It's a gift you know.  The gift of fall.  Unwrap it slowly and lovingly because in a few short weeks it will be gone; replaced by a cold north wind and blowing snow.